


The Pressure Inside

by Anarhichas



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: BDSM, Jealousy, M/M, Obsession, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 15:12:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anarhichas/pseuds/Anarhichas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren wants Armin. All of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pressure Inside

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Eren is possessive, creepy and generally obsessed with Armin. Armin doesn't mind it at all.
> 
> Concrit is more than welcome!

It started long before the sex. That was just when it got put into words.

'Shit,' Eren said, ineloquent, as he ground down on Armin's cock, feeling the pressure inside of him swell as Armin's hips bucked up to meet him. 'Shit.'

Armin only moaned, gripping the scratchy sheets of the mattress. His skin was damp with sweat, pale hair clinging to his face. Lying on his back he arched his spine, chest heaving as he panted open mouthed.

Eren rocked his hips, setting the fast tempo, and stared as he did so. He couldn’t help it. Just the sight of Armin, wiry limbed, flushed red and desperate beneath him, was enough to burn deep into his chest. It wasn’t the cock in his arse, the tight pressure, even the roil when he hit some place deep inside just right, that made him hard enough to leak fat drops of precum.

He wanted Armin. Wanted all of him – his cock, the hot air in his mouth, the canvas of his skin. His bony shoulders and round blue eyes. Wanted him, wanted to take him all and never let go, hide him under his own ribs where no one else could see or touch.

Eren stopped rocking, leaning forward to splay one hand over Armin’s flat stomach, the other reaching out to clumsily brush one nipple. Armin whined at the loss of friction, jerking his hips up the small amount they could, trapped as they were between Eren’s tightly grasping thighs.

'You're mine,' Eren said, not knowing where the words were coming from but meaning them deeply and utterly all the same. He pinched Armin's nipple between the tips of his index and middle fingers. Armin sucked in a wet gasp and Eren did it again, harder.

'Move,' Armin hissed, gripping Eren's hips and shoving at them weakly. Eren grabbed his hands, pinning them down.

'You're mine,' he panted. 'Say it. Now.'

Armin made a high noise in his throat, frustration. ‘Yes,’ he said, letting his body fall lax, powerless. ‘I’m yours, just yours, Eren please fuck me–’

Eren growled, bucking his hips once only. ‘Say it better!’ he said, heart and head alight with a rush he couldn’t name.

'Eren, I'm yours, you own me, do whatever you want, please, I belong to you, I do, I–' Armin stuttered as Eren rocked back, forcing himself to take in all of Armin, shifting forward then down again.

Armin came, breathless, the muscles of his forearms straining as they pulled against Eren’s strong grip on his wrists. Then he collapsed, seemed to sink into the mattress, eyes closed and still panting rapidly.

Eren shimmied forward, kneeling over Armin’s chest to trap it tight between his legs. Armin opened his eyes, looking down his nose to Eren’s cock that bobbed above his chin, hard and thick veined. Without prompting he opened his mouth wide, letting Eren’s hand cradle the back of his head, tilting it up and onto his cock.

Armin licked at the bottom, swallowing tiredly, carefully. The air of his breath rushed past Eren’s wet, hypersensitive skin, agonisingly gentle. He gripped Armin’s head harder, fingers tight in the long hair, then pushed his hips forward until his pubic crest was squashed into Armin’s nose, balls against his chin. Armin gagged, saliva dribbling from his open mouth, and made a small noise in his throat. He didn’t pull away, though, didn’t move except for his hands finding Eren’s motionless hips, sliding down to grip his thighs.

'I fucking own you,' Eren said, finding his voice as he finally started to jerk his hips, hard and fast, fucking Armin's hot mouth. 'I own you, you're mine, no one else's, mine.'

Eren came a bare breath past the last word. He bit his lower lip, feeling the sweep of orgasm stretch through his body as a flood of pressure release, sharp as lightning. Then he pulled away, letting Armin’s head back down onto the mattress, and collapsed by his side. Armin’s throat bobbed visibly as he swallowed in between light coughs. His mouth and the skin around it were wet with saliva.

Eren reached out without thinking, covering the sweaty, hot stretch of Armin’s neck with one hand. His fingers curled around, tips digging gently into the muscle just shy of Armin’s spine, and felt the movement of his soft throat scrape against his palm.

Armin smiled at him, tired eyes crinkling, and Eren grinned back.

.

If the world had shifted, it had shifted around Armin. Eren watched from the corner of his eye.

Had everyone always crowded around Armin like they did now? Jean, ruffling his hair, or Sasha thumping him on the back. Connie leant way too close as he listened to Armin speak, Eren was sure of it. Historia smiling soulfully at him and what the hell, Eren thought, gritting his teeth, Historia wasn’t even into guys. Even Levi watched Armin’s small body for far too long as they trained.

It made his skin crawl. He didn’t dislike any of them, but when they got too close to Armin – he couldn’t stand it. He wanted to tear them apart. His hands itched with violence. But he knew Armin wouldn’t approve of that – clever, kind, frail Armin – and for him, Eren could stop himself. Just.

.

Eren came in from standing watch and stopped abruptly in the doorway. His heart beat heavily in his throat. Jean stood there, casual as anything, and in front of him was Armin. Shirtless, perfect, slumped sideways in the chair with his back to Jean, elbows on his knees.

'What the hell are you doing?' Eren said loudly, and Jean whipped around. Even Eren could see his sneer betray his nervousness. Touching Armin like that – how dare he?

'What the hell does it look like,' Jean shot back, and held up a cloth dripping water onto the floor. There was a dark stain on it, deep blood orange.

'Eren,' Armin interjected, twisting around to face him. 'I got a scrape during training. Jean was just helping me clean it, that's all.'

Eren stared at him, then walked up to inspect the mess of torn skin on Armin’s upper back. He was glad to see Jean take a step away, even as fury dug into his bones at the sight of Armin’s shallow wound.

'Give that here,' he snapped, holding out his hand for the cloth. 'And don't fucking touch him.'

'Seriously?' Jean said, shifting unconsciously, defensively. 'He's allowed to speak for himself, you know. I'm not going to treat my friends like damn lepers just because you're having crazy fits of insecurity.'

A muscle jumped in Eren’s forearm as he clenched his fist. Fuck Jean. He knew Armin wasn’t his, wasn’t to be touched, but did it anyway. Eren’s eyes narrowed. He’d tear that bastard’s horse face off for even thinking about it–

'Eren,' Armin said, voice gentle, and reached out to grab a hold of Eren's arm. 'I'm sorry, I'll find you next time, okay?'

'Don't apologise to him,' Jean started, but faltered. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and dropped the cloth on the table before walking away.

.

Eren slipped a hand down Armin’s trousers, holding him around the chest with his free arm. They sat outside in the dark, Armin’s arching back pressed to Eren’s stomach, Eren’s back to the cabin wall, not caring who might hear them.

Armin bucked into Eren’s loose hand, already whining, cock straining. His wrists were tied with a belt looped through a ring in the wall meant to tether horses, forcing his arms up and outstretched. Eren pressed his nose into the back of Armin’s neck, letting his fingers run light and teasingly up and down his cock. His legs hooked over Armin’s, pinning them to the ground.

'Eren,' Armin stuttered, 'Eren, please.'

Eren’s cock throbbed in his trousers, aching. ‘What was that?’ he said, and bit the back of Armin’s neck, hard. Armin’s breath jumped and he didn’t reply, except to whine louder and try grind his hips forward into Eren’s hand.

Eren grinned and pressed his lips to Armin’s neck, feeling the indentation where his teeth had been. He licked the spot, a long, wet stripe. Armin shivered under his touch so Eren did it again.

'The others,' Armin said, hoarsely. 'They've been – been asking Mikasa. If I'm okay. Since you – you've been so–'

'What?' Eren growled, suddenly furious, and his hand fell still on Armin's cock. How dare they fucking think he would ever let Armin be not okay? Armin was precious, perfect and his, and he’d raze the whole damn world to keep it that way. 'You want this.' It wasn’t a question.

'Yes,' Armin gasped. 'Fuck, Eren, I told her that – you know it, I want it, I told you, please don't stop–'

'Tell me again,' Eren said, tightening his grip.

'I want it, I'm yours, you own all of me I swear it Eren, please–' Armin's voice trembled with need, or perhaps pain, his cock heavy and hard in Eren's palm.

Eren pulled away, standing on unsteady legs. ‘Turn around,’ he said, rough, and his fingers fumbled with the pot of mechanical oil he’d stolen specially, hours before. Armin got his knees, still breathing hard, and turned to press his forehead against the cabin wall. The new position gave him some slack on his arms, and Eren wasted precious seconds tightening the belt to remove it.

Liberally, messily coated in oil, their trousers barely pulled down enough, Eren sunk into Armin. He groaned, and reached around to find Armin’s cock, pulling at it inelegantly as he drove in and out.

'You're mine,' Eren said, a promise pulled deep from the lungs. 'Swear it.'

'Yes, I swear,' Armin managed through his heaving breaths. 'I swear it, I'm yours.'

Eren rubbed Armin’s slit, sliding his wet thumb down the ridge of the shaft to its base, and Armin came in great pants, whining through gritted teeth. The noise sent deep satisfaction down Eren’s ribs, and tight heat between his legs. He could feel it, the pressure and tightening, and he was so close, so close he could barely think.

Eren let go of Armin’s cock, gripping the back of his shirt collar instead to pull it tight, forcing his spine to arch. His other hand held on to Armin’s hip, the jutting bone layered in long muscle, stability for his hard thrusts that bumped Armin’s chest into the wall. Armin moaned, breath sobbing.

'I fucking own you,' Eren said, and would have continued but for his own orgasm tearing through him, leaving his shaking and boneless, softening inside of Armin. After several long moments lying slumped on his taut back Eren stood, undoing the belt with nerveless fingers. Falling more than sitting down Armin hissed in pain as he brought his arms to his chest, rolling his stiff shoulders. Eren sat close behind, holding him tight, and kissed the bruised flesh of his wrists.


End file.
